


in between we've found our way to live

by glitteratiglue



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tumblr ficlet, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 04:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: “Steve,” Bucky said faintly as Steve hauled him through the Quinjet hatch.“You’re okay, Buck,” Steve said, in a voice that was as steady as he could manage when his hands were shaking like wind-blown paper.





	

**Author's Note:**

> An old tumblr ficlet I thought I might as well stash here.

“Steve,” Bucky said faintly as Steve hauled him through the Quinjet hatch.

“You’re okay, Buck,” Steve said, in a voice that was as steady as he could manage when his hands were shaking like wind-blown paper.

Bucky remembered it all: the clang of Steve’s shield as it fell to the ground, the weight of Steve’s arm around his shoulder. He wanted to say something — _you don’t have to do this for me_ , or _are you sure you’ve thought this through._

Before he got the chance to say anything, a whir sounded behind him. Then Steve was bearing him down onto a soft surface, and Bucky was too tired to think anymore. His eyelids slipped shut.

 

 

When he woke again, there were doctors. Everything was too bright and gleaming; it hurt his eyes. He tried to close them and a finger prodded his cheek, hard.

“Hey, what’s the big idea here —” Bucky started to protest, then his gaze fell on Steve, seated on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Steve said, sounding relieved. He looked very tired.

“Was it the arm?” Bucky asked.

Steve shook his head. “You took a blast to the kidney. Lost a lot of blood.”

Bucky tried to struggle up, and winced as a sharp pain seared through him. He gave up and lay there, useless.

“You’re okay, though?"

Steve smiled. There was a bruise on his cheek. “Couple of cracked ribs. I’ve had worse.” He paused. “They’re gonna give you something, if that’s okay.”

“Fine,” Bucky rasped. The pain was getting worse, a throbbing ache all down his side.

“For the pain,” a woman said, pushing something into the cannula in his hand.

Bucky couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a good sleep. He closed his eyes and let the drugs take him.

 

 

“Bucky —”

“Stop it,” Bucky said.

They were walking in the Wakandan palace gardens — green and pleasant, and humid as all hell; Bucky had started blinking sweat out of his eyes by the time they reached the rare orchid display on the second level.

Steve’s face was mulish when he replied, “I’m not gonna let you do this out of some misplaced sense of guilt.”

“It’s not that,” Bucky said. He shredded an orchid between his fingers that was probably priceless.

“Then what,” Steve said.

Bucky didn’t trust himself to look at Steve right then. “You know what,” he said after a moment. “People died in Berlin when I got triggered. I killed them. Next time, it could be you.”

“I wish there was another way,” Steve muttered, and that was probably the closest thing to acceptance Bucky would ever get from him.

Buck put his right hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. “You won’t be lonely,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ve got Wilson.” Bucky grinned. “Carter, too, if you go get her.”

Steve went pink then, and it wasn’t from the tropical heat.

 

 

“I didn’t think you you remembered,” Steve said breathlessly.

He was backed into the door, Bucky pressed up against him while they kissed, lazy and slow.

“Course I did,” Bucky said, and he did. In the war, those rare times when no-one was watching, they’d taken each other apart: carefully, quietly. This wasn’t the moment for careful.

Steve’s eyes flashed, and Bucky knew he hadn’t forgotten a bit of it either.

Now he had two hands on Bucky’s shoulders, was walking him backwards. His smile was hopelessly fond, and it pulled Bucky in, made him crazy the way it always had.

He shoved Steve down on to the mattress, rucked up his t-shirt and fought back the irritation at having only one hand to touch him with.

“Come on, then,” Bucky forced out, past the tightness in his throat. “I’ll give you something to remember me by.”

Steve laughed wetly. “You’re not on death row. You’ll be —”

And then he broke off and kissed Bucky, deep and bruising, until Bucky forgot about the end of that sentence — until he forgot everything except Steve’s hot, seeking mouth and hands.

 

 

Bucky closed his eyes and listened to the soft hiss of the cryochamber starting its cycle.

It was different this time — he wasn’t afraid, and Steve was there. Steve would be there if (when) they found a way to fix him. Bucky had to believe they’d do it eventually.

The cold crept up his body, and for the first time, he didn’t fight it.


End file.
